Circa Theatre
June 30-July 28 | Reviewed by Melody Nixon

Dumb Show, now in its final Circa Two week, has moments of hearty black humour – if such humour can be hearty – and witty, shrewd observation. Its representations of wry and hopelessly selfish modern ‘man’ encourage us to readily self-identify. And its portrayal of today’s media – albeit somewhat distant from the shores of tabloid free Aotearoa – is relevant and searching. But at times Circa’s Dumb Show seems to slip past the tug and weight of Joe Penhall’s script and fall into unlikely interpretation, relying too heavily on overstatement.

The trio of talented and well-cast actors succeed at times in teasing out greater subtlety from their interactions, but ultimately struggle to engage the audience on a more than superficial level. When drunken Barry (Stephan Gledhill) leers to highly sexualised Liz (Jessica Robinson) that “sex is God’s way of saying sorry… it’s compensation for growing up,” we laugh gladly at the strength of this phrase; yet fail to sense a dynamic between the two characters that would imbue the phrase with a deeper, fulfilling subtext.

The themes of the unethical and corruptive effects of fame and notoriety – as witnessed both in money-hungry TV star Barry, and the smooze duo Liz and Greg (Gavin Rutherford) – echo the themes of LaBute’s Fat Pig, recently concluded across the foyer in Circa One. As personal gain becomes the driving force in each character’s relations with the others, it becomes increasingly unclear who is manipulating who. Roles of victim and tormentor are reversed over and over, ala Blackbird, also recently concluded at Circa.

However, apart from the initial scene of Barry with Liz and Greg as ‘bankers’, these roles are not clearly defined enough to allow for steady, confident reversal. Unlike Blackbird, Barry, Liz and Greg all play ‘dumb’ as to the awareness of their own situation; the internal workings or emotions which would allow us to access the truth of their various positions, are kept hidden. While this allows for the many layers of intricacy in the plot, it also, in my opinion, prevents us from believing in the characters as they are portrayed here.

Furthermore when, as in the case of the bankers, the premise for the scene is laid out plainly, it tends to ring hollow. Rather than be caught up in the unfolding of action we tend to anticipate it. We are unconvinced the ‘bankers’ would so generously try to help Barry to restart his career and we wait expectantly for the uncoiling which, although exciting in parts, does not come as a complete and satisfying surprise.

The change in power dynamic between Greg and Liz, though made spectacular through Liz’s physical metamorphosis, is also a little unconvincing. The role Liz has been playing until that point seems too weak to have been hiding such a viper; Greg’s consequent crumbling is also incongruous with the heartless domination he previously showed. The beauty of these hidden personas - hinting at the way the layers of self we construct in the quest for personal success can fool also ourselves - does shine through, but again because the characters themselves seem unsure of their own reactions, or do not display their emotions as the drama unfolds, we are never allowed to completely believe in them.

Nonetheless, there are many moments of hilarity and fun in Dumb Show, and is perhaps a worthwhile experience for devotees of straight up black comedy. Gavin Rutherford is a wonderfully comic actor, and he sparkles in the dry wit, arrogance and falsity of Greg. He manages to relay much of the script’s humour with finesse, despite the lack of emotional variation, which Susan Wilson’s directing has perhaps required. Similarly, Stephen Gledhill has some gleaming one-liners, and he suitably captures the vulnerability and neediness of Barry.

The play’s final point shows the submitting of the subject to that “exploitation of misery” Penhall sees as ubiquitous in today’s entertainment media. Whether the rewards for this voluntary subjection – money, fame, momentary self-importance – outweigh the embarrassment or sense of deception they accompany, is not explored. Rather, it is left to our discretion to decide the rights and wrongs of starring in a reality TV show, or having one’s personal life exposed in some tabloid. How far is too far? How much should people reveal about themselves, and when are they ever doing it out of their own free will? These are valuable questions to be left with from a humorous, if not too enthralling, production.

See also:
» Dumb Show (Reviewed by Helen Sims)